


Bliss, and Other Mysteries

by MothZone



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Oral, Smut, cw: mental health, moira doesn't know how to be a bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-08 20:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothZone/pseuds/MothZone
Summary: Moira doesn't know what to do with bliss, even after it lands right in her lap.





	1. Bliss

Angela's tongue slid between her lips and rolled her clit inside her mouth, sucking, teasing in a way that made Moira's own mouth go dry from a hollow moan. A shudder passed through her, bucking ever so slightly towards Angela's tongue to add a pressure that unlocked a secret the woman never knew about pleasure- about bliss. That in this exact moment, Moira's entire world consisted of two people.

  
There were no genes, no microbiology. No labs, no worried lab technicians worrying about receiving funding from people who were not worried nearly enough. No war, no struggle, no grief.

  
Bliss wasn't a moment of happiness, a wave of pleasure in the night. Bliss was forgetting it all. A divorce from reality.

  
Moira immediately spited herself for letting her mind wander, and a pang of fear crossed her that she had ruined her own bliss by examining it, like how she always ruined everything.

 

  
But Angela was persistent. Her tongue lulled Moira back into the trance of bliss, the veil pulled once more around her, separating the two of them from the rest of the world.  
“Angela.” She moaned, reassuring her partner of her work, and reminding herself she was capable of experiencing bliss.

  
She loved the way Angela's surprisingly strong arms held her legs spread, nails biting into her skin as she continued to kiss and lick and suck. There was an essence of surrender that was new to the ever-dominant Moira, and it was absolutely intoxicating. As long as she let it be. She wondered briefly if Angela felt the exhilaration of control, if Angela was as wet as Moira envisioned.

  
Angela broke away for a moment to breathe, lifting herself above Moira to kiss her. As their tongues glided over each other's, her senses were filled not with Angela, but with herself, smelling and tasting herself deeply.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Angela whispered, breath tinged with Moira.

  
Moira shook her head, pulling Angela in for a kiss. “I don't think I'll finish tonight, but it felt wonderful.” When she said “wonderful”, she absolutely meant it and could only hope Angela knew her well enough to know when she was telling the truth.

  
The pair washed up, then sunk into their bed for usual post-sex conversation. Same script, yet the roles changed in a way Moira wasn't prepared for. Instead of asking Angela if there was anything she didn't enjoy, if there was any way to improve, what she wants to feel again next time, Moira was the target of the questions from a rather timid Angela.

Both of them were new to this side of things, so they had a lot to discuss.


	2. Soft

“If I did anything different next time, what would it be?” Angela asked.

 

Moira looked up at the ceiling. “I think I'd like it if you could, well. Um.”

 

The darkness of their room was dimly lit by street lamps outside, and she could see the vague shape of Angela enough to know she was rolling her eyes. “Look, I would appreciate a lick of patience from you.” Moira said.

 

“I know.”

 

“I'm not usually on this side of things.”

 

“I _know_.” Angela said with a slight laugh this time. “It's okay, just be straightforward. What do you want?”

 

Angela didn't wait for Moira to answer, however, and interrupted with a laugh, “Remember how you always just go in and say stuff like, 'I love it when you grab my _ass_ when I'm _pegging you_ '?” Angela added emphasis by saying it in a poor Irish accent. Moira covered her face with a groan. “Just be forward with me like that. The only thing that's changed is that I'm on top now.”

 

Angela said that last bit a little smugly for Moira's tastes.

 

Moira rolled on her side, sending a smoldering look at her lover. “Oh, you are, now?”

 

“I mean, I also like grabbing your ass while you're pegging me.”

 

“Doesn't have the same effect without the _accent_ , Dear.” Moira teased, laying on her accent heavy.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Moira couldn't hide her grin. 

 

Angela lightly shoved her shoulder. "You're too much, and you're avoiding the question. Speak, Devil."

 

Moira laid flat on her back again. With an aloof wave of her hand, she said, "I like it when you're softer with me."

 

A beat passed. 

 

"Wait, really? You, the self-declared 'Queen of S and M'?" 

 

"I mean what I say and I say what I mean. I like it when you touch me softly." 

 

Moira could see Angela studying her in her peripheral. "Huh."

 

"Is that it?"

 

"I guess so. Thank you for telling me. And also, may I add?" 

 

Angela leaned forward and planted a slow, soft kiss on Moira's lips. 

 

"You are simply adorable."

 

Moira instantly felt her face flush.

 


	3. Award

The pair entered their flat, and Moira set down her glass award and closed the door behind them. It was cold, both of them kept forgetting to set the thermostat timer. It had been a busy month leading into the autumn, Moira frequently staying overnight at her lab and Angela hadn't fared any better.

 

That night, however, was a banquet dedicated to the scientists and engineers of Overwatch and their progress in science. The pair had known they would be celebrated at the banquet, but had no intention of participating at it until they both realized how many weeks it had been since they had both been out somewhere other than a sterile environment, or studying something elbow-deep in a cadaver.

 

A night to them. Many other scientists and researchers were also given awards, of course, but neither of them clapped nearly as hard as when the other received an award.

 

“What do you think? Should we melt these down and just use them as flasks?” Moira joked, loosening her tie.

 

Angela laughed and lightly pushed Moira's arm. “Don't you dare. At least, not mine. Do what you will with yours.”

 

Angela placed her award next to Moira's.

 

Moira looked down at her beloved. She began to lean down to give her a kiss, but paused when Angela looked back at the awards. She looked positively puzzled.

 

“Is yours... Is your award bigger than mine?” Angela said.

 

It was impossible to tell if it was intentional or a flaw in the manufacturing, but Moira's award absolutely appeared to be larger than Angela's.

 

Moira approached the shelf with the awards. “Would you agree that mine looks about, say, two percent bigger than yours?”

 

“I'd say about five percent.”

 

“So, does that mean I worked five percent harder than you?”

 

“Oh my god.” Angela said, beginning to laugh. Moira nearly cackled.

 

“My dear, sweet Angela. Unfortunately, you are five percent less valued than I.” Moira teased, gesturing at herself with a faux-pretentious flourish.

 

Angela pretended to pout. “I take it back. You can melt them both.”

 

The two nearly cried laughing. Moira could hardly remember the last time they laughed together.

 

 


	4. Comfort

It was still dark out when Moira woke to a hand shaking her awake. No, what she thought was a hand. The bed gently moved with the quiet trembling of Angela weeping.

 

This wasn't the first time this happened, but it had been some time.

 

Moira turned. Angela had her back to her. “Hey.” Moira said as softly as she could. Despite that, Angela gave a sharp start.

 

“Hey, I'm sorry I startled you.”

 

Her back was still turned, but the blonde shook her head.

 

Moira lifted her hand, then put it back down. “Would it help if I held you?”

 

Angela was still for a moment before nodding. Moira sighed, shoulders relaxing as she moved closer to Angela. She pressed her form against Angela's, wrapping her arms around her.

 

It wasn't long before the arm Moira placed beneath Angela's head was wet with tears.

 

When the two of them first started sleeping together, comfort came awkwardly and after too much thought. Over the years, they learned that an embrace meant so much more than a thousand comforting words at times like this. They learned how much value there was in silence shared between loving souls.

 

When Moira woke in the morning, Angela was tucked warmly under her chin. She could feel her breathing against her skin, steady and warm.

 

In their years together, mornings were one of two things. Absolutely impersonal, or intimately indulgent.

 

Impersonal mornings usually looked like grasping at a toothbrush, hair gel, and a fresh pair of clothes as quickly as possible to get to a lab to fix the world.

 

Moira would not let this morning become one of those.

 

She already spent half her life dedicated to numbers and chemicals and biology. To science, and a sore neck craned over a dry book.

 

Moira decided at some point that she wanted at least some memories of comfort and love. She had so many memories of lust and passion, but love? That she was trying to make up for.

 

Angela made making memories of both love and lust easy. She never thought she would find someone so willing to be so many things to her. But here was this woman before her, offering companionship in the truest sense of the word.

 

Moira let herself drift off to sleep once more, so glad to have Angela in her arms. When her lover would wake later, Moira would ask what caused Angela such unrest the night before. But before then, the best thing she could do was rest.

 

 


	5. Anhedonia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: discussion of depression and suicidal ideation. If you're having a rough time, the united states national suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255. If you are outside the united states, please go to this website to find a hotline local to you, or use google to find a local hotline. http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines  
> You matter. Please take care of yourself.

 The balcony overlooked the city. Flakes of snow were starting to stick to the roofs forming the skyline. Moira exhaled. A mix of cigarette smoke and her hot breath clouded the frigid air.

 

Her eyes followed a piece of ash fall off of the balcony, joining the flurry of snow.

 

She closed her eyes.

 

 _Insomnia. Irritability, anger, tiredness, sadness, lethargy, reduced appetite, reduced interest, etc._ Moira knew that there wasn't one singular way depression manifested itself in a person's life, but she wished her own mental illness would be a little more subtle.

 

It was hard to breathe. It was hard to move. The only thing driving her bones was the urge of nicotine bringing her cigarette to her lips. Her eyes kept flicking down. Moments like that is when she always became incredibly aware of how high eight stories really is.

 

It's high enough to do the job.

 

One more breath, slow in, slower out.

 

She wasn't going to do anything, she was just going to think about it.

 

Another puff of her cigarette. As she exhaled, she looked at it and her shoulders dropped. Her cigarette was down to the stub. She flicked it over the balcony down to the sidewalk below, and patted her pockets for another.

 

“Shit.” She was all out.

 

She spent her entire life seeking out science, regardless of its moral implications. She's had a lonely life.

 

The door to the balcony opened up behind her. She was close enough to the door she felt warm air grace the back of her neck, but she felt too tired to turn towards it.

 

The door shut, and she heard the snowy crunch of Angela's shoes in the snow.

 

The shorter woman wrapped her arms around Moira's middle and pressed herself against her back.

 

“You know I get worried when you get like this.”

 

The ghost of guilt hit her as hard as her apathy would allow.

 

“I know.” Moira replied.

 


End file.
